


take two

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: clone 'verse [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Clone Sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, doppleganger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: We’ve not talked about the clone incident since that day.In fact, we’ve not talked much since that day. Full stop.---AKA, The One Where There's A Clone. Again. Happy Birthday Kris.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: clone 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975954
Comments: 11
Kudos: 140





	take two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisRix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/gifts).



> OKAY. 
> 
> This was an adventure. 
> 
> First of all, I want to thank [Caity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/pseuds/Caitybug), [Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff), and [Sconey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover) for being my god-sent angels and dealing with the mess that was this fic pre-beta. I love them, you should love them, they are amazing. 
> 
> Okay, secondly, I want to say that this is my _61st_ fic for this fandom. And I love that _this_ is the one to mark that milestone. 
> 
> And finally, the most important: This has been created for the one and only, the most amazing, a light in my life, an energy I never want to lose, a man who I'm actually grateful to share space with: [Kris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix). 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Kris! You're so wonderfully spectacular, I have so many good words I want to throw at you but I think I used every word left in my body to write this fic for you. I hope you view clone porn as an acceptable form of love and affection, because this is what I've got. 
> 
> I may have lost my mind writing this, and I may have stayed up until 5 AM to make sure it was done for your birthday. That is how much I adore you. 
> 
> (Also a special shout out to Abby & annabellelux for staying up with me as I slowly deteriorated mentally as I finished this monstrosity. It was lovely to listen to their voices while I tried to wrangle together three orgasms.)

**SIMON**

We’ve not talked about the clone incident since that day.

In fact, we’ve not talked much since that day. Full stop.

We kissed until our lips were sore, until we were both gasping for breath, until the sun went down and the shadows lay over us and we fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up in his bed. He was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. He was absent from all of our classes. I didn’t see him again for nearly two full days.

No one else seemed to be concerned by his absence. Penny kept changing the subject, and his friends Dev and Niall acted like this was completely normal.

I wanted to tell Penny about what happened, about the magickal clone, but I didn’t want to tell her the full story. I didn’t want to tell her how I realized I’m attracted to Baz because I know what it’s like to kiss him now. I just wanted to know what she thought, if she’d heard of anything like it.

I couldn’t bring it up though, not without having to tell her _everything_.

Instead, I asked myself what Penelope Bunce would do. And then I went to the library.

That’s where I found Baz again, finally. He sat at a table with his nose buried in a book and I ignored the way my heart skipped at the sight of him. He saw me as soon as I walked in and I wondered if his heart skipped a beat, too. (Probably not. Probably I’m the only one that feels this way.) (I don’t even know if I _want_ Baz to feel this way.)

I started making my way to him, to ask where he’s been, to ask why he’s not been back to the room.

I looked away for just a moment and in the next he was gone again, the table completely empty as if he’d never been there.

The next night he finally came back to the room. He strolled in all nonchalant, like he hadn’t been mostly missing for two days.

I tried to ask where he had been. He ignored me.

It’s been a week since the clone thing, and he’s still not spoken to me. Frankly, it’s just annoying now. Why’s he ignoring me? Who does he think he is, sucking my dick and making out with me then pretending like I don’t exist the next day?

More importantly, has he found any answers about the magickal clone?

It’s the weekend, a long weekend so we’ve not got classes for a few days. Baz is sat at his desk doing coursework, and I want to make fun of him because who does coursework on the first day of a long weekend?

I don’t.

Instead, I stand next to him and watch him until he looks up at me.

“Can I help you, Snow?” He drawls, lifting one of his brows. I want to punch his stupidly perfect manicured eyebrows off his stupid posh face.

I don’t.

Instead, I say, “We need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

My hands curl into fists by my sides. I can feel my magic and embarrassment bubbling up beneath my skin. Because I don’t _want_ to talk about this, but we _need_ to.

Because I’ve tried to forget about the way Baz’s lips feel against mine, or the way my soul felt like it was on fire when he looked at me like he _wanted_ me. And I _can’t_.

“About the other night.”

Baz plays dumb. “Which night, Snow?”

“You know which—” I growl, try not to lose control so easily. “ _That_ night. With your… clone spell, or whatever you did.”

He tenses for a second before relaxing back to his feigned nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” I press. “You still never told me how you did that, or why — You’ve not said anything _since_.”

His stupid smirk is so fucking attractive. I hate it. He knows he’s got me riled up, I know he can smell the magic building up inside me, he can probably hear my fucking heartbeat, too. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and that’s what makes him such a _prick._

“You’re such a prick,” I snarl. And he just keeps fucking _smirking_ at me. I wish I knew how to get under _his_ skin as much as he’s under mine.

Then it occurs to me… I _can._

**BAZ**

Snow lunges at me and for a moment I think it’s an attack. I’m about to shout ‘ _Anathema_ ’ when his mouth crashes into mine.

I hold his head in both of my hands, matching him with every push and every pull, every bite and suck and lick. We’re a mess of tongues and lips and teeth, hot breaths and soft sounds falling into each other’s mouths.

I didn’t think I’d get this again.

I’ve been avoiding Snow since the day after it happened so he wouldn’t be able to apologise or tell me that it was a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened. Every time he’s tried to bring it up, I’ve shut it down so I wouldn’t have to hear him downplay what may have been one of the best moments of my miserable life.

But now he’s kissing me _again_ , and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t think all those things.

“Fuck, _Baz.”_ He’s groaning against my mouth, and then he’s climbing into my lap, straddling me until we’re chest to chest. My hands are on his waist, holding him closer, squeezing when he rolls his hips against me.

He’s half-hard in his trousers. I want to touch him, but I’m still so unsure about everything that’s happening right now.

_Is this just because he wants to get off?_

Crowley, does it _matter?_ Would I say no if he asked?

I suppose this is as close to asking as Snow will ever get; he’s not exactly known for being particularly eloquent.

While my hands stay firmly planted on his waist, his are in my hair, on my neck, pulling at the buttons on my uniform shirt. He gets frustrated with them after a few minutes, opting instead for tugging until they pop. He’s a brute in everything he does.

It’s the sexiest fucking thing about him. I’ll just have to practice my mending spells.

Snow’s lips venture away from mine, tracing a path down my neck to my newly exposed chest. He’s sliding from my lap slowly, leaving hot, wet kisses down my body as he goes. I slide my hands into his hair and watch him, marking several things off my list of Simon Snow fantasies in the process. His curls feel soft between my fingers. I can smell the school-issued shampoo mixed with something deeper and smokier that’s purely _Simon._

I wonder, vaguely, if I’m actually dying. If this is some last-hope fever dream. Maybe Snow finally killed me, and I’ve somehow been granted a spot in heaven. Just long enough to make love to Simon Snow, before being delved into the depths of hell and an eternity of torment.

No, the torment starts as soon as his mouth leaves my skin.

He’s on his knees in front of me now, between my legs, hands rubbing absently over my thighs. My trousers are growing more and more uncomfortable.

Snow looks absolutely delectable, lips red and kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with a small ring of that lovely ordinary blue around his blown pupils. My hands are still in his hair, cradling the back of his head. He’s looking up at me, lips parted and chest heaving. (Mouth breather.)

His hands move further up my thighs. He glances down at his own hand as he runs a finger over the button of my trousers, then back at me. His voice is deep and scratchy when he asks, “Can I…?”

“You don’t have to ask,” I say, my voice rough to my own ears, but it makes Snow’s flush grow deeper. _Good._ Fuck, he’s beautiful.

He cups me over my trousers and I bite back a groan.

He bites his lower lip, eyes watching me from beneath his lashes. A picture of feigned innocence as he strokes me slowly, _torturously._ His touch feels like electricity in my veins, a fire burning just beneath my skin.

Snow finally pops the button of my trousers, pulling the zip down and exposing the bulge in my pants. My brain short circuits when he leans forward, mouthing at my cock through the fabric.

 _Snow’s mouth is on my cock_.

It’s hot and wet and I wish there weren’t a layer between that heat and my length. I moan at just the _thought,_ and then he’s sucking at my head and my hips buck up into his face involuntarily. I’ve half a mind to apologize, but that half of my mind died from a lack of blood when it all rushed to my prick. My words are lost, caught on another groan.

I can only manage one when Snow looks up at me again, eyes glimmering with pride for the state he’s left me in.

 _“Bed,”_ I practically gasp. Snow nods, enthusiastic, and stumbles back onto his feet.

I take my shirt and trousers off the rest of the way when I stand, then I’m back on Snow, kissing messily at his neck and jaw until he falls onto his back on his bed. He has so many more clothes than I do; it’s not fair.

I tell him as much and he chuckles low in his chest, then starts unbuttoning his own shirt. Impatient as all, I show him the same treatment he’d shown my clothes, tearing at the fabric and breathlessly promising to mend it later.

I’m quickly distracted by Snow’s newly exposed skin, trying to taste every inch of it. My lips brush over a nipple and Snow takes in a sharp breath, arches his back. I circle the tip of my tongue around the bud, listen to the sound of Snow’s low groan filling the room, then close my lips around it and give an experimental suck.

“Ba- _az.”_ My name comes out in a high-pitched whine and Snow’s pressing his chest closer and lacing his fingers through my hair. I want to destroy him just like this, keep teasing him and kissing over his chest and watch him turn to putty in my hands. “Oh, _fuck_.”

I can feel him hard, pressing against my hip.

“Can I take your trousers off?” I ask, and he’s breathless when he says ‘yes’. Desperately horny is a good look on him.

We work together to rid him of his trousers, he nearly kicks me trying to get them off, but as soon as he’s free he’s reaching for me and pulling me back into a rough kiss. Our bodies move together in an effortless rhythm, hips rolling into each other and hands reaching, grabbing, scratching at skin. Every sound I pull from his throat goes straight to my groin, and in turn escapes back through my own lips.

The heat, the friction, the passion—everything about this moment makes me feel sparks under my skin. My love and my desire were the kindling. I’m a match, and Snow’s about to light us up.

“Do– do you want—” Snow swallows thickly. I watch his throat as he does so. Then I lean in and lick a stripe up his neck, following the bob of his Adam’s apple. “ _Jesus_.”

I take a bit of pride in whittling him down to Normal swears.

“Baz—” Snow’s panting in my ear, nails digging into my back, and every few words are cut off by a gasp or groan or growl. “Do– you want– _fuck–_ wanna fuck me?”

Everything starts to slow down as I process that question. I have to stop and ask him to repeat himself because I’m positive I actually just passed out and dreamt it for a moment.

I didn’t.

“D’y’wanna fuck me?” He repeats, then adds, “Please.”

“Crowley, _yes.”_

“Take– pants off, both of us.”

**SIMON**

I don’t know when I thought of it. I definitely didn’t take much time to stop and consider before just asking Baz to fuck me.

What does that even _mean?_

I know what I _want_ it to mean, but does he…?

I’ve never done this with a bloke. I don’t exactly know the rules, or the vocabulary, or anything really.

Not that I really know that much about being with a girl. Or anyone, for that matter. I’ve only ever done anything with _Baz_ ˆ

I tell him to take off our pants and he does, a little clumsily. Normally I’d probably take advantage of that moment to tease him, but I’m too focused on the feeling of his eyes on me. He’s sat back on his heels, between my legs, and his eyes are trained just below my waist. I guess shamelessly staring is okay then, and it’s a good thing. I’ve finally got a chance to ogle Baz’s bloody perfect body, all lean muscles and sharp edges and long lines. He’s only three inches taller than me, but I swear every part of him is so bloody _long._

He’s fucking beautiful, the twat, from his strong shoulders down to his flushed cock. Even his bloody _ankles_ are sexy.

I want to clock him.

I reach for his shoulders and pull him into another bruising kiss instead.

 _Bruising_. That’s what I want right now, after being ignored for a week. I want Baz to pay attention to me. I want him to give me so much _attention_ that I’m aching for the next week, I want him to leave behind evidence of it, marks and bruises and bites. Anything. _Everything_.

“How do you want this, Snow?” he asks, and there’s something _soft_ behind his eyes, under the lust-ridden gaze he’s set on me, buried in the rough edges of his voice. It makes warmth bloom in my chest, a different warmth than I feel in my belly.

I kiss him again.

Then I realize he’s expecting an answer.

“I—” I lean my head back to look at him. I wish he could just read my mind; I don’t know how to _say_ what I want. I don’t know how to ask for it. “I want—”

“Go on, darling,” Baz encourages.

_Darling._

That word does something to me. I don’t know what, I think my brain is moving at half the speed of my body, including my mouth. Whatever it does breaks the dam in my throat, words are spilling out before I can think better of them.

“I want _you,”_ I gasp. “In-in me. I think. And I think– I think I want you to– what fake Baz did—I want you to-to do _that–_ to _me_. Your mouth— _there_. And I wanna suck you off– _Fuck_ , I wanna suck you off, but I want you to fuck me—Merlin, Baz, I wanna do it all with you.”

“I think that can be arranged.” He’s got this devious smirk on his face, and I can practically hear him _plotting._

At least the plotting is in my favor this time.

He kisses me again and I’m lost to it. He pulls away suddenly. I’m a bit disappointed until I feel his hands slide under my thighs, and he’s all but throwing my legs over his shoulders as he dives between them.

 _Merlin, what a sight_.

**BAZ**

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Theoretically, _I_ have never eaten someone’s arse. My magickal clone, or doppelganger, or whatever, has. Mine, to be exact. (As far as I know, at least.) (Did he exist outside of that moment? Was it magickal cloning, or was he pulled from another time? Another dimension?) (I have to stop thinking about it, it’s all far too complicated. I haven’t the foggiest, and I’ve had no luck finding any answers on my own.)

The point is, I don’t know what I’m doing when I dip my head between Snow’s legs, but I hope to Magic I’m doing something right.

I press a kiss to the crease of his thigh and I feel his fingers reaching out for something, for _me_. He finds one of my hands and pulls it from his leg, interlocking our fingers as well as he can at this awkward angle.

_Simon Snow is going to hold my hand while I eat him out._

Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

I leave a soft kiss on his cheek next, then swipe the flat of my tongue over his hole. I remember the other me doing it and it felt nice. Snow must think the same, if his shuddery little moan is anything to go by.

I use my free hand to spread him open and leave a few kitten licks over him, light and teasing, until he’s squeezing the hand he’s holding and trying to rock his hips toward my face.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but fuck, I must be doing something right.

It’s not everyday that I have my face buried in the arse of the man I love, but I’m so overwhelmed by _Snow_ here. (Maybe I should make this an everyday thing.)

Snow is _crooning,_ shifting his hips and grinding down onto my face. I wonder if I could get him off with just this, but I’m distracted from the thought by a sizzling sound, a crackle, a _pop_.

My first thought is that Snow’s gone off.

The air smells thickly of magic, but not Snow’s magic. Or, not _just_ Snow’s magic. And it’s not nearly as overwhelming as it usually is when he’s worked up or about to go off. (He definitely is worked up, though. I can smell his magic bubbling under his skin in much the same way I can when we have a row.)

I don’t have time for a second thought because Snow starts, sitting up quickly and narrowly avoiding kicking me in the head as he exclaims, “Baz!”

I push myself up, too, and realize there’s an extra weight on the bed. A new person has joined us.

I look up into my own eyes.

Again.

 _What the fuck_.

**SIMON**

There are two Bazes.

Again.

Baz, the Real Baz, _My_ Baz, was… well, doing some frankly amazing things down there and then suddenly… _There was another Baz_.

He’s also starkers this time.

Two Bazes. Both completely naked. On my bed.

In a different world, hell, maybe this world several weeks earlier, this would be a god-awful problem. _Two_ Bazes.

But now.

 _Now_ …

I look between the two of them, staring at each other in surprise.

_Now…_

“Suppose this could solve some problems,” I mutter.

Baz looks back at me, my Baz.

“Problems?”

I’m blushing like mad. I can feel it spreading over my cheeks, up to my ears and down my chest. I swallow thickly, and I see Baz’s eyes follow my throat. “I– You—”

“Do you want to—” Baz looks between me and _other_ Baz. (Fake Baz? Baz the Sequel? Baz 2: Electric Boogaloo?) _“Both_ of us?”

Baz 2 is watching us. His concern and confusion seems to have been replaced with a look I hope to learn well. Lust, want, desire. It matches my Baz’s face—are they connected? Do they feel the same things?

“I– well—” I scratch at the back of my neck absently. “I want– _yeah_. I-if that’s—”

Baz cuts me off with a kiss. I think it’s the best way he’s ever told me to shut up.

I feel Baz 2 move over the mattress, and then fingertips are tracing down my side leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

I pull back from the real Baz and turn to Baz 2. I cup his cheek, his skin is just as smooth as Baz’s. Just as cool.

His hair is just as soft when I slip my fingers into it.

_Can I kiss him? Is it cheating? Am I even in a position where I can cheat on Baz?_

I glance back at Baz. Do I even have the words to ask him?

I don’t need them, I think. He nods, and I think he might understand. I think he might be giving permission.

I hope he is.

I lean in and kiss the other Baz, and fuck it’s just as good. (‘Course it is, it’s _Baz.)_

I feel my Baz’s lips on my shoulder, leaving a wet trail of kisses down my arm. I groan into the other Baz’s mouth when my Baz starts kissing his way down my back.

His hands caress my arse.

I’ve never had my arse caressed, but _fuck._ That’s a feeling.

And then Baz’s mouth is back where it was before clone Baz appeared. _What the hell conjured him again?_

One Baz licks into my mouth as the other licks over my hole again and I forget to question how we got here.

The only thing that matters is what they’re doing with their mouths.

And that it’s fucking incredible.

I lean further into clone Baz, arching my back and pushing my hips back to give my Baz better access.

I think I could die this way and die happily.

**BAZ**

Snow’s grinding his hips against my face again and I’m trying to remember everything that my magickal doppelganger did to me. I’m trying to make him feel as good as I did that day.

I just want to make him feel good.

“Baz,” Snow gasps. I look up but I don’t stop. I can only see the expanse of his back and shoulders from here, as he leans up against the clone.

His skin is so flushed he’s pink down to the middle of his back.

Crowley, I want to bite him.

I won’t. But the desire is there, I can hear his blood rushing through his veins; I can _smell him._

 _“Baz,”_ Snow repeats, shifting his hips against me. A low groan falls from his lips. “ _Please_.”

I stop now and kiss the dimples on his lower back, then whisper into his skin, “Tell me what you want, Snow?”

 _“Uhhn,”_ he groans again.

I nip at one of his cheeks; that wasn’t the response I was looking for. _“Tell me_ what you want, Simon.”

“Fuck me, Baz—I want you to fuck me.”

His words add more tinder to the flame already burning low in my belly.

Then I have an idea.

I meet my doppelganger’s eyes over Snow’s mussed mop of curls and I see a grin curling over his lips. (I don’t know if there’s any kind of magickal clone telepathy, but I know we’re on the same page.) (Thank Magic.)

“You said you wanted to suck my cock, too, didn’t you, Snow?” I ask, and I feel the shiver down his spine. His curls bounce as he nods, rather enthusiastically, too, I note. “Do it.”

He makes a small whine in response. He’s never been great with his words, I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s not that eloquent in this context.

I’ve got enough words for both of us.

“There are two of us, aren’t there?” I emphasize each statement with a kiss up the middle of his back. “I.” _Kiss._ “Fuck you.” _Kiss._ “And you.” _Kiss._ “Suck him off.” _Kiss._ “Sound good?”

_“Yes.”_

**SIMON**

This is it.

This was his plot all along, it has to be.

This is how he’s going to kill me.

I’ve never had anything in my arse, but Baz’s fingers feel like they belong there. That sounds strange, I know, but stick with me here.

He must’ve gotten lube at some point, or maybe he magicked something up. I don’t know. I feel like I’m about to ascend, or maybe I’m going to implode, _I don’t know._

It’s overwhelming.

I almost feel like I want to cry, but not in a bad way.

While Baz is fingering me _(Merlin, Baz is_ fingering _me)_ , I’m pressed against the other ‘s chest and he’s peppering my face with kisses. Then I’m moving down his body until Baz’s cock is in my face. Well, it’s not _Baz’s_ cock, but it… is… in a manner.

_Fuck, this is confusing._

_I_ definitely _can’t tell Penny about_ this _time._

_Oh, fuck, I can’t start thinking about Penny right now._

Baz adds another finger and I’m no longer thinking about anything else.

This all feels so strange, but I guess that makes sense. This is all new, from the sex itself to being with Baz like this.

And _wanting_ this.

I want _so much_ right now, in such a deep way that I don’t think I’ve felt before. I certainly never felt this way with Agatha.

I never felt _close_ to this.

The only other time I’ve really felt anything like this is when I’m fighting. Mostly when I’m fighting Baz, honestly.

It’s always Baz.

**BAZ**

Snow moans again when I dip a third finger into him.

My heart is pounding in my chest, has been since I stepped back to get the lube I keep in my wardrobe. Since I had the opportunity to really comprehend the full capacity of what is happening right now.

_I’m about to fuck Simon Snow._

I’ve certainly thought about this plenty, _dreamed_ about it far more than I should.

I never would have thought it could _happen_.

Snow was still kissing my clone when I moved back to his bed, and I got to watch him melt against him when I pushed a finger in.

It must be taking all of the energy in his one brain cell to hold himself up because the longer I move in and out of him the lower he falls down the clone’s chest and belly.

Until his face is right next to his cock.

I see the pink of his tongue dart out from between his lips, licking the clone’s cock.

A surge of _something_ runs through me. Not jealousy, necessarily, but something just as deep,

just as carnal.

Something urges me on enough that I’m slipping my fingers out and reaching for the lube again, spreading it over my length this time.

Snow whines when I leave him, and I see him crane his neck to look at me over his shoulder.

He looks a mess, holding himself on his hands and knees, curls sticking out at odd angles, lips red and swollen and parted. There’s a bit of drool on the corner of his mouth and his eyes are dark and heavy and barely open.

“Alright, Snow?” I ask, giving him this opportunity to call the whole thing off. Not only is he about to be in bed with his enemy, but with his enemy’s _clone_ as well. (Are we still enemies?)

 _“Just fuck me, Baz.”_ His voice is rough and hoarse, and it’s sexy as hell. My cock twitches in my hand. (I think I see my clone’s cock twitch, too.) Then Snow’s turning his attention to the clone, and I see a look of disheveled lust on my own face when he says, “You, too.”

Snow dips his head down, placing a wet kiss on my clone’s cock before taking him into his mouth. I can’t see much from this angle, but I hear my own moan coming from the other side of the bed and see my clone’s eyes slip closed.

I don’t know how to describe the experience of watching _yourself_ get your dick sucked by the man you’re in love with, but the sight has me thrusting into my own hand.

_But I could be thrusting into something so much better…_

Snow’s arse lies before me, open and waiting and _wanting_.

I watch the movement of his hair as he bobs his head, taking the clone as deeply as he can before pulling back again. Then I shuffle closer, grabbing his hip with one hand and using the other to line myself up.

I can feel the heat of him as soon as I press against him; it’s threatening to consume me.

And then it does.

Slipping into the tight heat of Simon feels like stepping into a fire.

I’ve been burning slowly from the inside, and now I’ve walked right into the heart of a volcano.

Snow lets out a muffled moan around the clone’s cock, and the clone and I let out matching groans as I slide all the way in.

I grip Snow’s hips in both hands as I pull back out before slowly pushing in, earning another choked sound that encourages my clone to whine. _Is that really what I sound like?_

I’m almost worried about it, but I look down and the sight of Simon Snow filled with my cock from both ends is enough to short circuit my brain until I can resort only to my most primal urges.

**SIMON**

My Baz and Clone Baz manage to sync into a sort of rhythm that has them both thrusting into me at mostly the same pace. _Clone telepathy?_

I would think harder but I’m completely incapable of thought. There’s nothing in my head except _more_ and _harder_ and _faster_ —none of which I can _say_ because I’m too focused on the cock in my mouth.

And the one in my _arse._

I feel so _full,_ having them both here at once.

Clone Baz thrusts roughly into my mouth and my eyes water when he hits the back of my throat. I nearly gag, but then I’m swallowing around him and they’re both moaning above me, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Doubly so.

My Baz is gripping onto my hips so tightly, fingers pressing into my skin so hard I think he’ll leave a bruise. Clone Baz has laced his fingers through my hair, and he tugs at my curls at the same time my Baz thrusts into me, and I’m crying out around his cock.

It’s a messy back and forth, almost lining up for a few thrusts before falling back out of rhythm.

It’s as if they’re fucking _each other_ , and I just happen to be the tool in which they do it. (I try not to focus on how hot I find the idea of Baz fucking himself. (Granted, that _is_ what happened last time and it _was_ very hot.) (Maybe it’s just Baz, _he’s_ just hot, so of course I’d be just as wound up by the idea of _two.)_

This is not how I thought I’d spend my day.

This is exactly how I want to spend the rest of my days, though. (At least with one of them.)

(Preferably _my_ Baz.)

Okay, maybe not _exactly_. But this is it, this is better than fighting Baz. This is kind of like fighting Baz, in a way. Only we’re both kind of winning, and it feels a lot better.

It feels so _good._

I want to feel this way about him, like I want him, like I want to be _around_ him. _With_ him.

 _Fuck,_ this is quite the revelation to have in the middle of the most odd, yet perhaps most exciting, and one of the _first_ , sexual experiences of my life.

I kind of want to hold his hand.

I shift my weight onto my dominant arm, reaching back with the other until I reach the hand on my hip. It’s not a great angle—in fact, it’s really awkward and kind of starts to ache immediately—but I take Baz’s hand in mine as best I can.

I squeeze, and he squeezes back.

And then I hear him gasp, and feel his thrusts start to get more desperate. I’ve barely processed my Baz’s orgasm before clone Baz comes down my throat, and I’m trying to swallow as much as I can without gagging. I definitely spit quite a bit out onto the sheets when he pulls out. I’ll have to spell them clean later. (Or ask Baz to, his cleaning spells are always better.)

My Baz pulls out as well, leaving me feeling empty and hollowed and used.

And still _aching_ to be touched.

The arm I was using to hold myself up gives out and I fall onto my side on the bed, carefully avoiding the spot where I spit a moment ago.

There’s another sizzle in the air, and a _pop._

And then Baz is in my arms, peppering my face with kisses just like clone Baz had been doing earlier. Only it feels even better now, and I take his face in my hands and kiss him as he reaches down and wraps his hand around me.

I thrust up into Baz’s hand, not needing much before I’m spilling over his knuckles and onto my sheets. (They _really_ need to be cleaned.)

Now I feel empty and hollowed and worn.

I tilt my head up, searching for Baz. Lifting my arm feels like a feat in and of itself, but I cup his jaw in my hand and make him look at me.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” I ask. He doesn’t answer at first, and I press on. “Please stay, don’t leave me again. Don’t ignore me for another week.”

My eyes slip closed at some point before I finish my last sentence, but I feel Baz’s lips press against my forehead. And I think I hear him say something, hopefully something positive. Hopefully a promise. (Maybe a cleaning spell.)

I don’t want to go another week without talking about the clone incidents, or what this might mean for us.

I don’t want to go another week, another _moment_ even, without him.

I don’t.


End file.
